


Not Drunk

by GlassScaffolding



Category: Star Trek: Alternate Original Series (Movies)
Genre: Attempted Rape/Non-Con, M/M, eventual Jim/Bones, not in detail
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-07-11
Updated: 2015-07-11
Packaged: 2018-04-08 17:38:07
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,958
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4314261
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/GlassScaffolding/pseuds/GlassScaffolding
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Three times Jim got into a fight without being drunk. Three times Bones was there to help clean up afterwards.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Not Drunk

**Author's Note:**

> I'm sorry for those who are sensitive to rape and rape-related issues. This story does not touch on it in particular depth, and does not describe the even in detail. I hope this helps inform you in your decision on whether to read on.

The first time Dr Leonard McCoy agreed to go out drinking with his roommate was the first Friday after term started. It had been an exhausting, although exhilarating, week. Between starting his classes, moving in to campus dorms, getting the shittiest room due to his late application, and finding the guy he was bunking with was the same guy he’s thrown up on earlier in the day, it had been hectic to say the least. The night in question, so far, wasn’t going so well either.

It was going like this: despite agreeing to meet up with him at seven at the local bar, it was already half-past without a single peep out of his bunkmate. Second, as he stood outside trying to get a hold of him, his phone was out of battery. That wasn’t even mentioning the down pouring rain or bitter cold. Leonard was about to give up and go back outside to wait, when a groan alerted his attention to the alley behind him.

Cautiously, he made his way to the mouth of the grubby opening. There wasn’t much to see, beyond some garbage bags and a dumpster. Slowly he approached and threw open the lid. He was almost unsurprised by the sight that met him there. Almost

“Bones!” It called out. So this is where his college roommate had gotten himself stuck. His blonde hair looked positively disgusting, whatever gunk from the trash caught in it, and his big blue eyes blinked several times in confusion. For the son of a hero, James Tiberius Kirk acted a lot like a mischievous imp.

“Are you drunk already?” Bones asked incredulously.

Kirk rolled his eyes, “Haven’t had a drop.”

Bones gave him a raised eyebrow, but the kid ignored it.

“Are you just gonna stand there,” he asked, “Or are you gonna help me out?”

With a sigh Leonard reached into the dumpster truck, and pulled the kid out of the trash. For the second time since he met him, he dully noted, the kid was beaten to a pulp.

“What did you do this time?” He inquired, not really all that bothered.

“I didn’t do anything!” The kid jumped to defend himself. There was a pause as Leonard leant him against the wall. “Well,” he amended, “I didn’t _start_ it.”

He raised the eyebrow higher this time. Jim caved. “I was minding my own business, talking to this girl, when these guys turned up, and began to tell her to go back to her own planet. I, politely, told them to fuck off. Then they started throwing insults at me.”

Leonard frowned, “What next?”

“I implied their father wasn’t their father, that they really liked farmyard animals, and that the only way they could have such horrific manners was if they were uneducated brutes.” He stated calmly, although his shaking hands gave away just how angry he really was.

Bones sighed, “Officially, I never said this. It goes against who I am as a doctor. But Jim, please tell me you broke at least _one_ of their noses.”

Jim grinned, “It would’ve been worth it if I didn’t.”

 

**~*~*~**

It had been a late night at the Academy. Leonard had only put away his PADD minutes before, sinking down into the dorm-issued sheets. Just outside the sound of cars and people murmured peacefully in the background. He could, upon voice command, have the computer block it out, but since moving from his wife- ex-wife’s house over a hundred miles away, he found the noise was a comfort. It was a reminder he was no longer there. Sometimes however, Leonard missed the quiet found in that house, hundred miles away. This was one of those moments.

The sound of the door unlocking and gliding open interrupted the darkness of his quarters, and Leonard sighed internally. That would be his roommate finally returning back to the dorm after a hard-core night of booze and alcohol. Hopefully, he wished wordlessly, he would be in one piece for once in a blue moon. There was the clatter of someone stumbling down the steps into the main area of the flat and into the coffee table before an audible swear. Leonard groaned and resigned himself to getting up once again.

“Lights.” He grumbled, pushing off his covers and rubbing his eyes before pulling on some trousers. He had already slept in an old t-shirt, not that his Jim would mind a particular amount about him helping him out in the middle of the night in nothing but his boxers. He was shameless like that. Leonard grouched his way over to the heap of groaning dirty clothing by the couch. It looked up as he approached.

“Oh hey Bones. Did I disturb your beauty sleep? I feel down the stairs. I’m sorry.” He frowned and looked genuinely distressed, but his words were slurred.

Bones sighed at the kid. He did that a lot when it came to Jim Kirk. With his blue eyes, blonde hair, and the sweetest smile this side of Georgia, he looked like an angel, but then, Lucifer was an angel too once.

“C’mon,” he heaved the kid up onto the grey couch, frowning at the effort. Jim looked rather slim, but damn, that muscle density crept up on you. Like most nights, he was littered with scuffs and scratches, bruises and bumps. Even his damn nose was broken _again._

“So,” he asked him as pulled out his medi-kit, “Get in another bar fight kid?”

“Yep,” Jim said happily, but sleepily. He’d probably conk out on the couch after Bones had cleaned him up. If Leonard wasn’t a doctor, he would have a lot more scars, he could tell you that much.

Bones shook his head, and pulled out his torch, checking pupil response. Slower than usual, but that was to be expected if Jim had been drin- He stopped. At this distance the stench of alcohol should be overwhelming. There was a faint whiff, but nothing near- He rummaged in his medi-kit, finally finding what he had been looking for.

“Hey Jim,” he said carefully, “Breath into this.” He placed the breathalyser into Jim’s mouth, who was gazing around the room as if he was looking into the heart of space. Bones watched the kid carefully, looking him up and down. His shoes were ties correctly, on the right feet, his trousers, thank God, were buttoned and the fly pulled up, and his belt was still on the same hole he always had it on. His shirt however, was a different matter. Some of the buttons were ripped off, and some were in the wrong place. Bones was filled with worry for his best friend. In truth, even though Jim was only  a few of years younger than him, Bones felt an overwhelming urge to protect him.

The machine buzzed, and Bones took it from Jim with unease. Slowly he read the screen. His heart dropped as it confirmed what he already suspected. Jim had a blood alcohol content way below that would cause this sort of behaviour. Leonard look several breaths, regulating his breathing. He needed to take Jim to a hospital. If he went now however, there was a chance he might start freaking out. He needed to make sure it looked like he had a valid reason.

“What was that for?” Jim asked innocently. It hurt like a knife to the chest.

“Just needed to check if I could give you something to help you sleep. I can’t, so sorry kid, you’re gonna have one hell of a hangover.” He lied though his teeth, setting the breathalyser down, and saving the results. Diligently be began cleaning some of the grime off the cuts on Jim’s head.

“How many drinks did you buy tonight Jim?” He asked, working away.

The kid took a moment to answer, “Uhh... Three, I think.”

Bones pretended to laugh, “How many did other people buy for you then Jim?”

“I always buy my own drinks!” Jim said indignantly then he blushed, “Well… maybe this one guy bought me a drink… But he was so hot Bones! All tall with dark hair and a southern accent!”

“What happened then?” He questioned him, trying to keep his voice level and hands steady, pretending to be indifferent as he began to patch up the scratches and gashes.

“We, uh, talked for a bit, and kissed for a bit more. Then uhh…” he frowned, “I don’t really remember.”

“Did you go back to his place?” Leonard stilled. He couldn’t help it. His hands were already shaking. He could work on Jim’s injuries like this anyway.

Jim thought about it. “No,” he replied with little certainty, “’Cause first he went to the bathroom, and he got me a drink before he came back to our booth. _Then_ we headed outside, once we were finished the drinks he got, and he took me down an alley and he said that we could go to his place but I told him I could because I needed to be back before twelve or I’d wake you up but he kept on telling me that we could go to his place but I didn’t want to but he didn’t listen so then I pulled away and then he punched me.” Jim’s face was scrunched up in a frown, and his words slowed back down, “I forgot that part. And I know I punched him back but I forget the next part too. Then I woke up in the alley and my shirt was all ripped. I don’t like him anymore. I like this shirt.”

Bones had were locked in a white grip on the couch. Jim had gone quiet, as if slowly realising what might’ve happened.

“ _Liked_ this shirt.” He whispered quietly, as tears slowly trickled down his face. He looked up at Bones in horror, and Bones pulled him carefully into a hug.

“Don’t worry,” he said delicately, so very aware of how fragile the great James T. Kirk was right at that very moment, “You’re safe now. Okay? I’ve got you. It’s going to be alright.”

They sat like that for a while, but Bones was acutely aware that it was best to have Jim examined as soon as possible. Eventually, unwillingly, he stood up, holding with a reassuring grip onto the kid’s hand. “C’mon,” he said softly, “You need to go to a hospital, so they can check what’s running in your system.” He didn’t say what he really meant, although he was willing to bet him Jim heard it all the same.

The drive to the hospital passed in silence. Jim held religiously onto his hand the whole way there, and even in the waiting room he refused to move from Bones’ side. Finally the tests came back. Yes, Jim had been drugged. They were told a number of cases had come up with men under the influence of the same drug in recent months. That meant nothing. They already knew that. Then came the most important news. Despite extensive injures, there was no evidence of rape.

Jim cried. From relief, mostly, but also with the realisation he’d been so close to such a horrific act, and terrible person. Bones felt some of the tension leave his body. He was still furious and he would still punch the guy if he was ever caught, but Jim was, mostly, okay. He was still hut, physically, emotionally, mentally, and they would have to go through the police interview for the report they would file, but it could’ve been way worse.

For the next month, Bones didn’t let Jim out of his sight. For the next month however, Jim found he didn’t really want to.

 

**~*~*~**

 

It was a late night in November, a cold wind sneaking into the empty train compartment. It was an old model, and was beginning to fall apart at the seams. If Bones didn’t know it had survived for the past ten years in a similar condition, he would blindly refuse to board it altogether. As it was, he had been sent to a clinic just on the edge of the city bounds, and the train was the easiest mode of transport there and back. Luckily today had been his last shift, which was also why Jim had decided to drag him down to the bar once again.

With a sigh, he grumbled his way off the train, heading to their dorm to change outfits before making his way to the local watering hole. They’d sub-consciously decided to switch since the last incident. Their current one was a bit quieter, more low-key, which Jim claimed knocked off his game, but Bones preferred in every way. Not to mention that even here he noticed Jim’s eyes never left him during their nights out, he knew it would only be worse if they tried visiting the old place again.

As he approached the battered door which stood as the entrance to “ _Josie’s Bar_ ”, Bones took a second to brace himself. Even from here he could hear the noise rumbling from within, and he already had a splitting headache. With his face set, he pushed it open.

Really, the sight he was met with shouldn’t have surprised him. Unfortunately, Jim Kirk never failed to find himself in the middle of well, everything. As of current, that meaning having his face punched in by one guy, while a second held his arms behind his back.

McCoy’s jaw clenched. He pushed his way through the crowd, striding up behind the attacker. His fingers formed fists and his chin stood raised. He glared at the man holding Kirk’s arms. In truth, he was probably only a couple of years younger than himself, and probably a much better fighter, but McCoy stared him down all the same. Acting as if he was about to beat him, he knew, was half the battle. Around him, the crowd’s volume lowered as he cast a quick glowering glare round at them. He returned to staring down the restrictor.

“Leave.”

His words were clear, perfectly pronounced. Still, he glanced at his partner.

“NOW!” Bones barked.

The guy scurried away. His partner remained, holding Kirk up with one hand gripped at the neck of his shirt, the other smashing into his face.

McCoy walked confidently closer. With lightning reactions, he caught the attacker’s arm mid-punch. He spoke quietly, but it was an obvious threat nonetheless.

“Son, you better drop him right now, or you’re going to find yourself needing a doctor sooner than you think.”

A moment’s hesitation, and McCoy twisted the man’s arm behind his back. “I thought I told you,” He ordered lowly, “to _drop him_.”

With an annoyed air, the man pushed Jim away, allowing him to land on the ground with a soft thump.

“Good,” McCoy breathed, dragging him to the door, “Now you’re going to leave, and if I see you again, you really are going to need a doctor.” With one final shove, he was into the street.

Hesitantly the crowd resumed to its usual rumble as Leonard made his way over to Jim, who was still a messed heap on the ground. He sighed, hunching down beside the kid. His nose, as was to be expected after a beating like that, was broken for what felt like the hundredth time that month alone, and he could already spot a black eye forming.

“What happened this time kid?” He asked softly, lifting him gently from the grime-covered ground.

Jim shrugged, then flinched. “Just a bar fight Bones,” He brushed it away.

Bones frowned, but let it go. He knew a normal James T. Kirk bar-fight; they didn’t happen sober, and Jim wasn’t exactly drunk. “If you say so,” he muttered, pulled his arm over his shoulder, “Now let’s get you into this seat so I can go bet an icepack or somethin’.”

With a groan, they managed to get Jim into the booth, and Bones headed over to the bartender.

“Hey,” he greeted him gruffly, “You don’t have an icepack by any chance do you?”

The bartender nodded quickly, “Yeah, of course, anything.”

The man rushed round the back, and Bones surveyed the damage done to the bar. There were at least three broken chairs and a large ornate mirror hug smashed on the floor, reflecting Jim hunched on a rickety bench, red lights pulsing around his head. He sighed, pulling out his wallet as the man returned.

Immediately he began to apologise, but was soon interrupted.

“Oh no it’s fine!” the bartender insisted, “He only broke the mirror and I think it was by accident, when he threw one of those guys against it, really I should be thanking the two of you. You saved my bar!”

“What?”

The man nodded frantically, “They come in here every week, trashing the place. He just walked up to them – there were five of them at first – and told them to leave! One went at him, and he dislocated his shoulder and kneed him in the face. He broke his nose! In one hit!” He said, eyes glazed and mouth slightly slack, “Anyway, so one of his mates helped him out and another ran at him, but he just-” he made a tugging gesture with his hands “-and threw him into the mirror! He ran for it. Then came the last two guys, but they were ready for him, and well,” the bartender shrugged, “you know the rest.”

Leonard turned, staring in faint amazement at Jim. His head was in his hands and red ran rampart down his face. The bartender dropped the icepack into his hand, the cold wet mixing with Jim’s warm blood as he went on something about free rounds and pay backs and such stuff. All the while Leonard stared at the kid sitting alone in a booth, the unlikely hero. Kirk got into fights often – he had the scars to prove it – but, for some reason, Bones never asked why he picked the fights he did. Jim Kirk, the hero. Bones had to admit, it suited him. He finished up with the bartender and made his way over.

Bones tapped Jim on the arm, and made a turning gesture as he pulled a chair up to the end of the booth, “C’mon, move round.”

Reluctantly Jim turned to face Bones, one hand pinching his nose, the other gripped on his lap. Bones handed over the icepack. “Here.” He took it unquestioningly, holding it up to his blackening eye.

“Have you had a drink yet?”

“A beer. I was waiting for you.”

A nod, a motion to the bartender, and a yell later, two bourbons sat on the table next to them.

“You gonna tell me what’s eatin’ at you kid? Or are we gonna sit here all night?” Leonard watched him carefully, Jim’s eyes sticking to the floor as he kept his hands busy with his drink and eye.

“You’re not one for keepin’ quiet and from accounts you were doin’ this bar a service, so I doubt this is about the fight. What’s up Jim?” He asked softly, beginning to work systematically over the kid’s injures. He started with Jim’s hands, which, he noticed uneasily, were shaking. Eventually he finished what he could, and still Jim was yet to say a word. With as little words as possible he returned the icepack, gathered Jim’s stuff, and led the kid outside before calling a cab back to their apartment. It was a quiet journey. Jim sat closer than was strictly necessary in the back, even despite the tight space. Leonard didn’t mind.

Finally they were home. Bones sat Jim on the couch, then grabbed his med-kit, starting with his hands, which, he noticed uneasily, were shaking. Leonard paused. Next to his, Jim’s hands looked so fine. Bones might’ve been one of the best damn trauma surgeon’s out there, but you wouldn’t guess it. Jim’s hands looked more apt, delicate like a pianist’s, if not for the gashes decorating his knuckles. He usually wore them like a badge. Why was now so different?

Jim pulled his hand abruptly from Bones reach. “Why do you bother with me Bones?”

Leonard started, surprised and hurt by the question. “Why would you-”

“I’m always getting into fights,” the kid bowled on, “I disobey orders, I’m reckless. I take you for granted on a daily basis. Why would a guy like _you_ ever want to be friends with a guy like _me_?”

“ _A guy like me_.” Bones repeated numbly. He frowned, “What type of guy do you think you are Jim? Some thick-headed risk-taker? A liability to everyone’s safety?”

Jim was silent. Bones angrily took back his hand. “You’re so much more than that. You fight for what’s right. You do what you believe to be best with the time, resources, and information you have. You trust people to have your back and let them work independently to their strengths. You value my opinion, and never force me to do anything I don’t want to do. You’re hardworking, smart, intelligent, brave. Yeah, you make mistakes, but you’re only human. You think I’ve never made the wrong call with a patient? You think my record is spotless?”

“But you’re so much better than I am!” Jim finally burst. “You always know what’s best for me and you’re always there for me and I look at you and…” Jim glanced up, catching Bones’ gaze, before quickly looking away, “… I know I’m safe. I know, that no matter what, you’ll be there. And I have no clue how to pay for that.”

Realisation hit Bones like a freight train, information smashing forward from the past in blinking pictures and snippets of unsaid words…

_The first day they met, Kirk wore dirty clothes and stank of stale alcohol. There were no red eyes nor signs of distress. He had not left family outside._

_When Bones asked Jim where he was headed for Thanksgiving the first year of Starfleet, he avoided the question. Leonard spent a disaster of a holiday in a shabby hotel room while his ex-wife refused to let him see his daughter, despite travelling over five hundred miles to see her. Bones avoided thinking about it then, and every year after that when they spent the holiday season together._

_The time in which Jim was sent into a coma due to an extreme allergic reaction and there were no family visitors, just a get “Get Well Soon” card with “Love Mom and Frank”._

Bones’ hands settled on Jim’s. He had the intense urge to reach up and lift the hair from Jim’s face, and hold him close. Before he knew it, his forehead was rested on Jim’s, and a hand lay on blood-flecked hair. “You are so important to me,” He breathed, “Why would I ever ask you to pay for holding me together? For being my best friend, my _family_? Why would I ask _you_ to pay for giving _me_ a _home_?”

Leonard looked reproachfully at Jim, waiting for his eyes to meet his. It wasn’t long before Jim dared a peek to check Bones was telling the truth. His breath caught at the solid gaze waiting for him.

“I love you.” Jim whispered. Bones was taken a back, surprise silencing him for a mere second. Jim pulled back, his face draining of colour. “I’m sorry,” he rushed, “I shouldn’t’ve-”

A grin grew on Bones’ face, and he pulled Jim back to him. “Dammit Jim,” he muttered, “Why didn’t you say that before?”

Like with everything else concerning Jim Kirk, his first kiss with Leonard McCoy made even the stars jealous, and every one after that caused nothing less than a super nova.

**Author's Note:**

> This is the longest one-shot I've ever written, totaling at just under 4,000 words. I'm rather happy with how it's turned out, although I apologise for any incorrect characterization or fact checking. Feel free to point out my mistakes or give any constructive criticism. Thank you for reading either way, I hope you enjoyed.


End file.
